


Anything

by thesvnwillrise



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Other, a little deus ex peacekeeper never hurt anyone, hound goes sicko mode to protect one (1) bi idiot, i'm using the violence tag out of an abundance of caution, it's not over the top i don't think, the raven is named vak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 12:19:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17981204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesvnwillrise/pseuds/thesvnwillrise
Summary: They were aware of Gibraltar yelling something through the mic, but Elliott’s cry was ringing in their ears, drowning out everything but the hot rage boiling in their stomach. And they were running, running towards the cry, towards whatever god-forsaken fool had tried to kill their Elliott.





	Anything

Darkness. Smoke. The drilling rattle of gunfire.  
  
Mirage dragged himself through the grass, one hand clamped over his chest.  
  
“Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look at it, Elliott,” he hissed, collapsing against the support beams of some worn-down building at the water’s edge. He slipped down the wall with a pained grimace, gritting his teeth as red spread across the front of his jumpsuit. Even while desperately pressing his hands against his wound, Elliott couldn’t hold back a wry laugh. At least the cameras wouldn’t see him here, in his last moments, choking on a mixture of his own blood and Bangalore’s smoke grenades. But as he managed out a “Sorry, mama,” he almost wished they could.  
  
The world was spinning awfully fast, and he couldn’t quite tell what was gunfire and what was the shrill ringing in his ears. Rationally, he knew he’d wake up in the state-of-the-art hospital erected specifically for the competitors. But still -  
  
A shadow loomed overhead, and Mirage squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
“Make it fast, I’ve got an interview tonight,” he said, bracing himself as the cold steel of a gun pressed against his temple. 

  


Darkness. Smoke. The drilling rattle of gunfire.  
  
There were four squads left, and every last one of them had found their way here into the shadow of the Watchtower. Bloodhound drove their knife into a competitor’s chest, wrenching it out in time to throw it at their approaching teammate. The man fell, metal glinting from his forehead.  
  
“Three squads remain,” the AI announcer’s cool voice boomed from the speakers.  
  
A guttural scream crackled through their earpiece. Bloodhound froze.  
  
“Mirage? Mirage, come through.” Even through the comms, panic tinged the ever-calm Gibraltar’s voice. Some unfamiliar feeling was flooding Bloodhound’s body. Their grip hand was shaking on their R-301. White-hot electricity was pulsing through their veins. They were aware of Gibraltar yelling something through the mic, but Elliott’s cry was ringing in their ears, drowning out everything but the hot rage boiling in their stomach. And they were running, running towards the cry, towards whatever god-forsaken fool had tried to kill their Elliott.

  


He was slumped against a wall. The man standing over him was wiping blood off the muzzle of his peacekeeper. Bloodhound grabbed him by the back of his shirt and wrestled the peacekeeper from his grasp. The man lunged for his gun. Bloodhound cocked the peacekeeper and shot him in the stomach. The man crumpled, and they kicked his body down the hill.  
  
A hand jerked their shoulder back and they stumbled into the man’s teammates. Bloodhound ducked the first shot, sliding across the slick grass and sweeping the legs out from under one of the men. Normally, they tried to keep things clean, to ease the pain of their victims. They fought, but they always honored the life of their prey.  
  
These men deserved none of their respect.  
  
Bloodhound unloaded a clip into the chest of the man they had tripped. His golden shield absorbed most of the spray. Before they could reload, his teammate grabbed their arm, wrestling it behind their back and pulling the Carbine from their grasp.  
  
“Allfather, gefðu mér sjónar!” Crimson light pulsed through them, and they wrenched their arms free, throwing their knife at the man behind them and diving for their Carbine. It met his shoulder and the man stumbled, blood burbling down his chest. Bloodhound reloaded quickly, firing at the man until he collapsed. His third teammate howled in rage, lunging for Hound. Before they could dodge, white-hot pain seared through their stomach as his knife ripped down their side. Bloodhound grabbed his arm, punching blindly at the man until their fist met his face with a sickening crack.  
  
Their stomach felt like it were being torn apart from the inside out; every part of their body was pulsing with pain, but the sight of Elliott leaning against the wall with blood pouring from his temple was stained on their vision. A fresh wave of anger rippled through them, and they drew their hand away from their side and stumbled towards the man once again. Blood was dripping from his nose, his cheek purpling already.  
  
“Two squads remain.” Bloodhound was faintly aware of the announcement; Gibraltar must have taken care of the third squad.  
  
“Come on, Champion,” the final competitor hissed, picking up his EVA. Bloodhound’s vision was starting to blur; uncomfortable wetness was staining the front of their jacket. “Just us now.” Bloodhound reached for their knife - too late, they realized it was still embedded in the shoulder of one of the dead men. A gunshot echoed across the hillside. Bloodhound dropped to their knees. Their armor had cracked, piecing off in tiny fractures, spots of red appearing between them. Bloodhound touched their chest. Their glove came up wet. A shadow loomed overhead, and Bloodhound pulled themself backward.  
  
“No use, Champ,” the man said, idly examining his gun. “Or, actually, I suppose I’m the Champion now.” He smirked at Bloodhound, aiming down sights. The red guidelight on his gun hovered over Bloodhound’s heart. They kept pushing themself back across the blood-wet grass.  
  
Their hand met cold metal. Bloodhound grabbed the discarded peacekeeper and shot.  
  
As he fell, Bloodhound saw the joy of victory still glinting in their competitor’s lifeless eyes.  
  
“Champion decided.”  
  
Bloodhound forced themself to their feet, shaking violently. They stepped over the bodies of the final team, making their way to Elliott. His eyelids fluttered faintly as Bloth collapsed on their knees next to him, and they cupped his face in their trembling hands as the world went dark.

  


Elliott sat up, rubbing bleary eyes and blinking under the harsh fluorescents.  
  
“Where’m I… Oh.” He slouched back against the pillows as he took in the all-too familiar Apex Hospital. Physically, Elliott felt wonderful. Whatever medicines they had developed to bring the Legends to life over and over again were incredible. But Elliott knew what being here meant.  
  
The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beeping from some machine on a table to his right. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching.  
  
“You’re awake.” Their voice was quieter, more melodic without the modulator in their mask. Elliott broke into a smile at the sound of their voice, but it faltered when he saw their blood-drenched clothing.  
  
“Hound, are you - “ Before he could finish, Bloodhound had crawled onto the bed with him. They balled their fists into his hospital-issue nightshirt, burying their head in his chest. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m here,” Elliott said, running a hand through their hair.  
  
“I thought I had lost you,” they whispered, voice cracking. Elliott opened his mouth and closed it again, resting his head against theirs.  
  
“You didn’t, baby,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “You saved me.”  
  
“I was - “ Hound finally looked up, meeting his eyes. “I was scared, Elliott. I am never fearful like I was then. I made many mistakes, but the worst one was leaving you on your own.”  
  
“You did nothing wrong, Houndie,” Elliott said, running his thumb along their jaw. “I promise.”

  


Mirage had wanted to watch the rerun of the Game, but Bloodhound could not. He was sprawled on the couch, volume on low and an icepack pressed to his forehead. Lifeline and D.O.C. had worked their magic and sped up the healing process considerably, but still it ached. Bloodhound, on the other hand, was entirely ignoring their ordered bed rest. Despite the new scar roping their side the many other injuries that they insisted _felt fine, thank you, my love, _Elliott could tell they were in pain.__  
  
And by the Allfather, it hurt him to watch.  
  
He sighed as their Championship was announced in the recording, and turned off the holo-vid. Elliott left the living room. Bloodhound was curled like a cat into an armchair in their bedroom, flipping through one of their Icelandic books, Vak nestled on their shoulder.  
  
“Is it over?” They asked, setting aside their novel and joining him on the bed. Vak fluttered off into the eaves. Elliott nodded.  
  
“You were in - inc - you were awesome out there, Houndie.” Elliott settled onto his side on their bed. Bloodhound lay next to him, and Elliott pulled them close till their foreheads rested together. Bloodhound did not respond, but they feathered their fingers over his cheek and into his hair, drinking in his features.  
  
“I am grateful that the Allfather did not take you from me,” they said, closing their eyes and exhaling softly. “I love you, Elliott.”  
  
“I love you too, Bloth. Thank you for saving me.” Elliot pressed a kiss to their forehead before wrapping his arms around them.  
  
“I would do anything for you, my beloved,” they whispered. Their eyes were fighting to say open. Elliott kissed them again, smiling.  
  
“Then rest, like you should be,” he said, voice as teasing as it was gentle.  
  
“Mhm,” Bloth mumbled, snuggling into him.  
  
Within minutes, with Elliott tracing patterns on their back, they were asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! so this is my first fic that i've ever posted and not gonna lie, i'm hella nervous about it. i would love any feedback you have on it.
> 
> i'd also like to offer a special thank you to everyone in the discord server for inspiring this story, proofreading it, and hyping me up to post it. i love you all!
> 
> also -  
> "gefðu mér sjóna" = "give me sight," roughly. i used google translate. please correct me if that's wrong!!


End file.
